


Room For One More Troubled Soul

by hazel1706



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Battle of Hogwarts, F/F, Gen, Happy Ending, Hogwarts Inter-House Friendships, Hogwarts Inter-House Unity, M/M, Sort Of, eventually, like the content gets less heavy eventually and it ends on a positive note, pretty much anyway, they try
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-14 04:27:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15380640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazel1706/pseuds/hazel1706
Summary: Voldemort has given them until dawn to treat their wounded, tend to their dead. But when every body is accounted for and there are no more bones to set, what are they supposed to do while they wait for Harry to decide how this war will end? When you aren't sure if you'll survive the next 24 hours it makes you question whether some secrets are worth keeping.





	Room For One More Troubled Soul

**Author's Note:**

> alright so, this is a very slight AU where there's more time between the first half of the battle and the second- y'know when Voldemort's all "hey harry come meet me in the forest, u got an hour" all i did was say there's more than an hour. tried to make it pretty canon-compliant other than that though
> 
> and yes, the title is from a Fall Out Boy song

_“You have fought valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery. Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you wish to continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste. Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat, immediately. You have until dawn. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured._

_I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait in the Forbidden Forest. If, by dawn, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman and child who has tried to conceal you from me. Until dawn.”_

Oliver shivered. The corridors were suddenly, eerily silent without the echoing pandemonium of battle that had raged not minutes before. The screams and bellowed curses were replaced by a few quiet, muffled sobs, instead of the flash and bang of spells flying there were shuffling footsteps as the combatants left alive migrated to the Great Hall.

A pang went through Oliver’s heart at that, and he wondered how many of the deceased he would recognize.

He spent the next forty minutes finding out. The dull ache in his chest went beyond tears, and he wondered if he’d ever be rid of it, wondered if he’d spend the rest of his life with this cold weight around his heart. Then again, the rest of his life could very well be counted in hours for all he knew.

Colin Creevey almost broke him. So small in death. He barely remembered the kid, just flashes of his ever-present camera and an enthusiastic grin whenever Harry was around. But it was enough for his death to cut right through Oliver.

As he laid him down next to the broken body of a girl he thought might have been on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, Oliver began to seriously doubt whether any of them would make it out alive. The revelation wasn’t so much a pressing, terrifying truth as it was an acceptance. He was exhausted.

Looking around the Great Hall he found himself surrounded by mourners, the injured, and dead, and suddenly he had to be anywhere but there. His injuries didn’t bear thinking about, and he hadn’t known any of the dead well enough to truly be considered a mourner. He felt like an intruder, witnessing grief he had no right to be privy to.

He slipped through the doors to the Great Hall with practiced grace, ambling silently through the corridor like a spectre, feeling drained and purposeless. He walked past places he recognized under the rubble and scorch marks and it hurt almost as much as hauling bodies had.

Melancholy was threatening to overwhelm him when someone called his name, a familiar voice, sounding almost as tired as he felt.

“Hey, Wood, over here.” Seamus Finnegan was nestled into Dean Thomas’ side under a half-blasted staircase, his face bruised and swollen, almost beyond recognition. Luna Lovegood, Cho Chang, and Ernie Macmillan sat in a half-circle across from them, grim-faced and streaked with dust. There were a few flickering lanterns on the ground in the centre of the group, casting all their cuts and bruises in sharp relief.

Apparently he wasn’t the only one looking for somewhere else to be.

He greeted the group with a few nods and a half-hearted wave, then sat a little ways apart from the others with his back against a mostly-intact stretch of wall. They were silent for a minute, then Cho spoke up, her voice quiet and wavering, not at all the girl Oliver used to see on the Quidditch pitch. “Does anyone know if he did it? Harry. Did he find the diadem?”

“It wasn’t in the common room,” Luna said sadly.

“He must’ve. C’mon, it’s _Harry,”_ Seamus replied, sounding disgruntled.

“Diadem?” Oliver asked, wondering what he was missing.

Dean shrugged, “Harry said he was looking for something that’d help overthrow You-Know-Who. Something of Ravenclaw’s. He was pretty stingy with the details to be honest.”

“I can’t believe we’re getting attacked by Death Eaters and the like, just so Harry can find a bloody tiara,” Ernie muttered. He was fiddling with what appeared to be a burn mark on the cuff of his sleeve, slouched dejectedly against a bit of rubble.

“Give it a rest, Macmillan,” Seamus snapped.

“Since when are you his number one fan, huh?” Ernie was turning a blotchy red, his tone indignant, “Where was all this faith in fifth year when—”

Seamus bristled, “Bit rich coming from you, didn’t you think he was the _Heir of Slytherin?”_

“I was twelve!”

"And you wore one of those ruddy stupid badges Malfoy handed out in fourth year—"

"Oh come on, even  _Weasley_ thought he cheated at first!"

“So, what, you get a free pass ‘cause—”

“NO, I’m just saying—”

“Mate. Give it a rest,” Dean cut in tiredly, eyes flicking between Ernie and Seamus.

“I’m _just_ —” Ernie’s voice broke and he deflated, gaze dropping to the ground. “I don’t want to die,” he whispered.

There was an uneasy silence. Cho’s shoulders shook, and Seamus looked stricken. Dean bowed his head quietly, pulling Seamus tighter to his side. Luna was looking at Ernie with her mouth drawn into a sympathetic frown. There was a time when Oliver might have offered up some kind of reassurance, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie when everyone knew exactly what their chances were.

“Ernie, there you are!” two girls rounded the corner, hand in hand, wearing matching expressions of relief.

“Susan? Hannah?” Ernie watched them approach, a little teary-eyed, “Where have you been?”

“We’ve been looking everywhere, we thought—” Hannah choked a little on a sob but took a deep breath and composed herself a moment later. “Susan and I couldn’t find you in the Great Hall,” a shiver went down Oliver’s spine as he imagined where their search had taken them. Scanning the rows of bodies, hoping, _hoping_ not to find familiar faces, “So we thought maybe you’d… You’re here, though, so…” she trailed off awkwardly when she realized everyone was looking at her.

Susan squeezed her hand reassuringly.

“Join us?” Luna offered after a moment. Hannah’s apprehension dissipated, and Susan shot Luna a small smile. When she pulled Hannah forward to find a place to sit Cho scooted over to make space.

There was some faint rustling as everyone fidgeted awkwardly. The minutes that passed felt heavier as they slipped away, the threat of dawn inching closer, and closer—

“So, how’d you end up here, Wood?” Dean asked, aiming for conversational. He missed the mark a bit, the strain in his voice was evident. “I mean, not here specifically, but…”

“Part of the battle?” Oliver supplied wryly. Dean nodded, looking slightly sheepish. “Alicia. She knew I’d been working with the Order, figured the DA could use all the help it could get.” It was slightly off-putting, being asked why he was there, like _his_ presence was the anomaly. He knew that every single one of them had contributed in some way to the war effort, but it was so hard not to look at them and just see _kids_. They were so young still. In a better world they’d have had nothing to do with this, but here they were caught in the middle anyway.

Oliver’s thoughts strayed to Colin Creevey and his chest tightened.

And never for a moment did he consider that he, in the grander scheme of things, wasn’t much older than any of them.

They all nodded, oblivious to or ignoring his inner turmoil.

There was aimless chatter for a while, everyone talking in circles to avoid the looming threat of dawn, no one sure what to say.

There was a clatter, then-- “Shit,” a voice hissed nearby, drawing everyone’s eye. Pansy Parkinson stood in the ruined corridor across from them, frozen and wide-eyed, gaze darting from face to face.

“What are _you_ doing here?” Ernie asked, eye narrowed and accusatory. They all regarded her with suspicion, pursed lips keeping dozens of judgements at bay just waiting for her to deserve them.

Her expression hardened. “None of your bloody business,” she sneered. But there was something false about the way she curled her lip. Her eyes still wavered like a frightened animal’s.

“It is if you’re here to turn Harry in,” Dean snapped. “What, couldn’t get the whole school to turn on him so you’re just going to hand him over yourself?”

Her lip curled further, jaw tightening, like she meant to look angry but was choking back a sob instead. “No,” she said coldly.

And suddenly she didn’t look like a threat at all. She wasn’t a viper in their midst, waiting to strike. She looked like another scared kid, just as dust-streaked and out of place as the rest of them, her eyes red-rimmed and cheeks smeared with mascara.

Oliver wasn’t the only one who noticed. Cho, who’d once watched a friend trapped in an impossible situation make selfish choices, saw Marietta Edgecombe all over again in Pansy’s trembling shoulders and well-hidden vulnerability.

“Would you like to sit?” she asked, calm, level, not looking at anybody but Pansy. As such, she was the only one who saw her posture crumple, the surprised uptick of her breath. Ernie and Seamus looked outraged, Dean and Hannah confused, open-mouthed and staring at Cho like she’d lost her mind. Luna was squinting at her appraisingly, and Susan looked lost in thought.

Oliver kind of hated himself for questioning whether it was a good idea. He’d spent years drawing lines, sorting people into “us” and “them”, it was necessary when they were at war, but he wondered whether it hadn’t started earlier than that. And he wondered if it would ever stop. He hated that he needed to wonder whether this scared teenager was a threat.

Indecision warred on her face, and in her posture. She swayed, mouth opening and closing a few times like she couldn’t force the words out without causing herself great pain. She shuffled her feet a moment before inching towards the group.

“It’s alright,” Oliver said firmly. He’d been a captain once, he had a “nobody’s allowed to argue with me” voice. There were disgruntled murmurs, but no one spoke up.

Pansy sat down so quickly Oliver half-suspected she was trying to do it before anyone said, “just kidding!”. Cho smiled at her, small and reassuring. Pansy didn’t return the gesture, but her expression softened minutely.

“So, what _are_ you doing here?” Luna asked, with none of Ernie’s hostility, eyes bright with genuine curiosity.

Pansy’s eyes narrowed a fraction, “I—” her words stumbled a little as movement in the corridor caught her eye, “Marcus?”

Marcus Flint froze mid-step, having just emerged from around the corner down the corridor. His expression was shuttered, carefully blank as his gaze swept over the group. The Hufflepuffs were whispering amongst themselves, looking uneasy, whereas Seamus looked about ready to pull out his wand.

“Bloody Slytherins. We shoulda picked a better spot,” Seamus muttered.

“I didn’t realize you were here,” Pansy said quietly, ignoring him.

Marcus shrugged, possibly trying for nonchalance but looking slightly disgruntled, “’Course I’m here.” Grey eyes flickered briefly over Oliver, “Couldn’t let these pompous fucks take all the credit. Leave it all to the Gryffindors and it’d be a ruddy miracle if the castle was still standing tomorrow.”

Dean’s fists clenched.

“Not sure how letting you slimy two-faced bastards in helps our chances,” Seamus called out. “More likely you’d hand us all over if it meant you lot would make it out.”

“He has a point,” Ernie said. “McGonagall sent them off for a _reason_.” Pansy flinched at that, refusing to meet anyone’s eye.

“Last I checked we were all on the same side,” Cho snapped, “We need all the help we can get, and tearing each other apart while the _real_ enemy’s waiting out there doesn’t help anyone but the Death Eaters.”

It was the closest they’d come to acknowledging the ticking clock since they’d all sat down.

“Hear, hear,” Susan muttered.

There was silence for a beat and then, “He saved my life, you know,” Luna said, regarding Marcus with a sombre expression.

“Who, Flint?” Oliver asked, slightly stunned. He wasn’t sure why it was so surprising. If Marcus had participated in the battle it stood to reason that things like that could have happened, the fight had been hectic, spells shot from all directions and people who didn’t even know each other banding together in the name of survival. But something about this fact jarred his previous perception of Marcus Flint. The image he’d held on to since the first time they’d faced off on the pitch somehow didn’t fit anymore.

Luna nodded.

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Wood. I’d been waiting for a shot at Avery since I was thirteen, the girl had nothing to do with it,” Marcus scoffed, looking uncomfortable with Luna’s proclamation. He’d never had a problem with people paying attention to him, quite the opposite in fact, but he wasn’t used to this kind of attention. He wasn’t sure what to do with Oliver’s appraising look, or even Cho’s defense despite the fact that it wasn’t personally directed at him.

Realization dawned on Pansy’s face, “Wait, squirrelly Avery? Isn’t he—”

“My cousin. Yeah.”

“The one who—“

“Yes.”

Pansy nodded, like this explained everything, while everyone else glanced between them waiting for things to make sense.

There was an expectant silence for a few moments before Marcus rolled his eyes. “I’m not explaining. It’s none of anyone’s fucking business.”

Hannah furrowed her brow, “But—”

“Drop it,” Pansy snapped.

“Don’t talk to her like that!” Susan exclaimed, indignant.

Oliver sighed, rubbing his forehead. He cut over Pansy before she could respond in kind, looking directly at Marcus he asked, “Are you going to sit down, or what?”

Pansy’s mouth snapped shut in surprise. Ernie, Dean, and Seamus looked at him like he’d lost his mind, while Luna looked obscurely pleased. Marcus, on the other hand, looked like Oliver had just conked him on the head instead of offering him a seat.

“Wood, are you sure that’s a good idea?” Ernie whispered.

No, he wasn’t. Distrusting Slytherins was so instinctual it almost hurt to ignore the impulse, but Cho was right, drawing lines amongst themselves wasn’t helping anyone but the real enemy. And besides, Oliver hated the closed-off, distrustful person he was becoming. He couldn’t go on with his life like that, he had to believe there would be something beyond all of this, beyond the battle, beyond the war, and he wanted to be able to live with himself when he got there.

He shrugged.

“It’s a great idea,” Luna said firmly.

Marcus was looking at her like she’d grown a second head. Which, honestly, was how most people looked at Luna. She appeared unaffected by it.

Seconds ticked by like hours before Marcus finally, cautiously, lowered himself to the ground, across the corridor from the group, still looking utterly thrown by the whole situation.

Seamus made a tiny, outraged noise in the back of his throat.

“Cho’s right, Seamus,” Oliver barked, irritated, “If any of us want to make it out of here alive we need to stop fighting amongst ourselves like ruddy children.” It wasn’t until he said it he truly _understood._ Bubbling hot panic took hold of his heart, making his chest burn and his lungs constrict. At first it was a spike of annoyance that didn’t fade, suddenly it was everywhere, the hammering of his pulse in his ears like the dull roar of a storm. The gravity of the situation hit him like a train and all he could think was, “And I don’t want to die either,” it came out cracked and feeble, voice trembling almost as much as his hands.

Someone’s hand landed on his shoulder tentatively, slowly as if to ask permission to reassure. He looked up. Luna. Her expression didn’t hold any pity and he felt better for it.

“My dad used to tell me things he wished he’d told mum before she died. He told me once that secrets aren’t secrets when the person you’re keeping them from is gone. When they aren’t secrets anymore they’re just regrets. I was eleven when I told him I didn’t want to have any regrets, but…” she trailed off, looking more melancholy than any of them had seen her. She sat back, retracting her hand and pursing her lips. “I think that if Ginny dies tonight I’ll regret never telling her I love her,” she whispered.

A shocked silence fell over the group, and then Susan burst into tears. “I never came out to my auntie be-before—” she choked on a sob and buried her face in Hannah’s shoulder. A tear dripped down Hannah’s nose and she put an arm around Susan’s shaking shoulders. Luna patted her back a bit absently, lost in thought.

Cho looked stricken, pale, and stared at her own hands to avoid looking anyone in the eye. No one knew what to say next, glancing at each other awkwardly. Dean’s face was grim, and Seamus kept opening and closing his mouth, trying to find the words.

“I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” Pansy’s expression was cold, detached, her voice flat. “I got to Hogsmeade and. And I realized I couldn’t go home. Because my parents might be out there,” she waved her hand vaguely towards where the Forbidden Forest lay outside, “And I couldn’t wait around in the village. I couldn’t go back to an empty house. And I just. Thought maybe I…” she sighed, rubbing at her eyes, “Hogwarts was supposed to be _safe.”_

“Oh yeah, Hogwarts has always been so safe. Except when there’s giant ruddy snakes, or bloodthirsty teachers, or Dementors floating around attacking students,” Marcus muttered sarcastically.

Oliver was about to tell him off on principle when Pansy let out a slightly hysterical giggle.

"D'you think Cedric would've forgiven me if I'd told him it was me who broke his favourite quill?" Ernie asked glumly. 

Oliver couldn't help it, he snorted. To his dismay, he wasn't the only one. It had to be the first time both he and Marcus Flint had ever shared a laugh, and it was disconcerting. Cho shot them both reprimanding looks before turning a kinder gaze to Ernie, who looked positively dejected. "Of course he would've."

"Right, c'mon mate, it was  _Cedric,"_ Seamus said. "Hufflepuff poster boy and all."

Ernie nodded a little.

Meanwhile Marcus's stare was burning a hole in the side of Oliver's head.

There was a lull, as Susan's sniffles became quieter and less frequent the silence became stifling again. 

"Does anyone else want to have a go?" Luna asked, looking around half-expectant. Acknowledging it almost shattered the fragile peace. Having to think about it made it strange. Having to think about who they were sharing confessions with. Blurting out secrets hoping someone might understand, needing to tell  _someone_  before they marched back into battle. 

Everyone shuffled awkwardly, not wanting to admit now that they were terrified and desperate. Desperate for absolution, for compassion, for reassurance. 

Dean looked around at the group quietly. He was suddenly reminded of being on the run. All the uncertainty, day after day not knowing when the Snatchers would catch up, never knowing if he'd see the people he loved again. Luna was right. He didn't want to have any regrets. "I don't remember anything about my dad," he blurted out. "I don't even really know if he was a wizard. And you," he turned to Seamus, who looked at him curiously. Dean's heart stuttered a little. "I love you. I know we said we weren't going to talk about it 'til after all this, but... But I do, and I needed you to know. And--" The kiss was a little sloppy. Seamus pulled Dean down mid-sentence and roughly pressed their lips together, the hands on either side of his face gentle.

The rest of the group looked away (except Luna, who's expression was wistful as she watched them), not wanting to intrude on an intimate moment. They broke apart and Seamus whispered confessions in Dean's ear that turned his grin soft.

Their lanterns flickered, casting shadows over the jagged bits of rubble their little group was nestled in. It was a sad mess but for a moment it was almost peaceful. Hannah quietly stroking Susan's hair, Luna tracing patterns in the dust while Ernie tried to sort out what they were. Pansy and Cho exchanged a few whispers. Dean and Seamus were too wrapped up in each other to notice what anyone else was doing.

Oliver, busy observing all of this, startled when he felt a hand on his shoulder. The touch was quickly retracted, and he looked over to see Marcus looking at him with an odd expression. "Wood, can I have a moment?" Oliver shrugged, perplexed, and raised his eyebrows expectantly. "Not here."

He narrowed his eyes slightly, instincts screaming at him to say no, it wasn't safe, don't trust him, but he shook off the impulse and reminded himself that he was trying to be better than that. "Alright."

They walked a little ways from the group, and no one paid them any mind. When they stopped Marcus couldn't meet his eye, looking more uncomfortable than Oliver had ever seen him. 

"Look. I..." Marcus scrubbed a hand down his face, "Fuck, I didn't think you'd actually say yes," he said, and sighed. 

"What's this about, Flint?" he asked impatiently, and winced slightly at the harsh edge to his tone.

"Remember that cousin I mentioned earlier?" 

"Yes..." he had to work to keep the suspicion out of his tone. "What does that have to do with anyt--"

"When I was thirteen he caught me snogging the neighbours' son. He hexed me and then told my parents what'd happened, 'cept he said I attacked him first."

"Oh," was all he could muster, thrown by the confession. It was not what he'd been expecting to hear. 

"Yeah. It wasn't-" he cringed, whether it was at the memory or having to recount it, Oliver wasn't sure, "wasn't pretty. Fuckin bastard got what he deserved tonight though."

"I bet," Oliver murmured, "But I don't get... I don't get why you're telling me this."

"You really don't, do you?" Marcus snorted, "Wood." He paused and sighed. "Oliver, I've always fancied you. Always thought you were stupid gorgeous when you got all worked up about Quidditch, and I envied the way you and your team seemed so close, and- And I always wanted you to see me the way I saw you, but... "

But all Oliver saw back then was a big dumb Slytherin. A rival.  

He was gobsmacked. 

"Not expecting anything from you, just wanted to say it. Y'know, before it's too late or whatever," Marcus was scuffing the floor with the toe of his boot and still resolutely avoiding Oliver's eye. 

"Marcus, look at me," Oliver said quietly.

The intensity in Marcus's gaze when he finally looked up stole Oliver's breath for a moment. Before his brain could catch up with his body he leaned forward, connecting their mouths. He felt Marcus's sharp intake of breath as their lips touched, and was faintly pleased by it. The kiss was chaste, and brief. Marcus made a soft, disgruntled noise when Oliver pulled away and the sound pulled worryingly at Oliver's heart. 

"What was that for?" Marcus asked quietly, looking slightly dazed.

"I just. I'm sorry about how things were in school. I had no idea, and... and maybe we could get to know each other better when this is all over?" Oliver chewed his lip nervously.

It was Marcus's turn to look gobsmacked. "Are. Are you asking me out?"

"S'pose I am," Oliver replied with a small smile.

Marcus hesitated a second before he returned the smile, "Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that." His face turned serious, and he lifted a hand to cup Oliver's cheek, fingers trailing along his jaw. "You'd better not die on me now."

He leaned into the touch just a fraction, "Wasn't planning on it."

Pansy glanced over at them with an uncharacteristically soft look on her face.

Everyone let them have their moment, and when they wandered back over a few minutes later there were sheepish grins and teasing remarks. They all felt just a little bit lighter than they had before, and for the first time in a long time, they had hope. 

Hours later, when the war was over and the survivors were gathered in shell-shocked groups around the castle, Cho and Pansy sat together talking about nothing and everything. Ernie sat down across from them in silence, and minutes later Susan came over still attached to Hannah's side. Dean and Seamus stumbled into the group, grinning. "Did you see?" Seamus asked, pointing across the Great Hall.

No one's smile was wider than Cho's when she saw Luna holding hands with Ginny Weasley.

A few minutes into their lively chatter, Dean looked around. "Anyone know where Wood and Flint went?" 

Pansy's grin was almost smug, "They left together about twenty minutes ago."

And even though there had been pain, and distrust, and everyone had their own personal scars, just for a moment, all was well. 

**Author's Note:**

> so that was basically the breakfast club with wizards. and like. a war going on in the background lol  
> i love inter-house bonding though. and i got this idea so i just had to.


End file.
